


Song of Stitches

by chimeradragon



Series: Songs of Taboo [2]
Category: Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Medical Torture, No Anesthesia, POV First Person, Spoilers s1 e2, Stitches, Torture, ghosts that sing, haunted, straps are not a substitute for painkillers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 00:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17694437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimeradragon/pseuds/chimeradragon
Summary: James Delaney. Returned from the dead, and nearly returned to them just as quickly. A different conversation with the doctor while stitching James back up after the assassin.POV





	Song of Stitches

I lay against the unforgiving wood. Dead. Years dead and soaked with the blood of both the living and the dead. I could smell it. I could feel it. I could hear it. In the ghosts that haunted the place. They were stuck, trapped by a lack of compassion. The lack of care as they'd been cut up and experimented upon. 

The doctor stood above me. Eyes slightly glazed from the drinks he'd had earlier and I felt my whole mind and body sway with the feeling of him pulling his mind back to the task at hand. He felt ... wrong. The dead sang to me, but they avoided him. There was something wrong with his soul. 

"Well, good morning, Mister Delaney," the doctor greeted as the needle pierced my flesh again and I felt the pain of it, distantly., and yet so close I could taste the blood; my blood, on the air. 

I turned my head to look at the doctor before staring upwards again. Towards the light. Where the dead sang their song the sweetest. I couldn't help but be lulled by them. We'd made a kind of peace so long ago. And there was much work to be done. To atone for my sins. And to make those that would not atone... pay. 

"We almost lost you. I had you followed. Said they saw some pretty awful things. Had to give my informant the day off," the doctor stated as he pressed the needle in again, almost seeming to enjoy the way it made my body shudder. I could taste the darkness rolling off him. Not a good kind of darkness, but the one that hid other darknesses. A darkness deeper than the depths of the ocean. 

I cocked my head as I rolled my eyes back down to the doctor and felt him pull the threads tight, making sure my flesh would mend correctly. I blinked slowly as his words slowly sank into my mind. I was lost. 

"We found bits of flesh buried in your teeth. You have to give me information. And though you take pain so well... take it like a stone... I doubt you'd survive much more blood loss. You come in here spouting things you should know nothing about... I should end you. But you intrigue," the doctor offered as he seemed to be putting the last stitch in place. I felt a sense of relief that his hands wouldn't be on me much longer. "This is the blade they used to try and end you. Interesting design, don't you think?"

"The assassin is dead. I don't care what he was using," I growled, voice low and rough from abuse and dryness in equal parts. I grunted as I managed to make enough spit to swallow and clear my throat. I lay back, tremors still wracking my body as the pain flowed through me. I felt the hands of my mother on my face. She came to visit sometimes. Soothed me when it was the worst. 

"I think it might be Chinese, what do you think?" the doctor continued as though I hadn't spoken. He looked down through the dirty lenses of his glasses, hands coated in my blood and a dirty knife in his hands. 

I looked over the blade for a moment and shook my head. "I don't know. Nor do I care."

"Ah, but I need to know how you have knowledge of things you shouldn't have knowledge of," the doctor insisted as he pressed the blade into my freshly stitched up wound. My body trembled and my mother looked worried for me, her brow was creased and her song changed. I felt like reaching up for her, to comfort her before the memory that I could only do for them, but never interact, hit me like a brick. "You should just answer my questions."

"Why?" I managed to croak as my body shivered harder. I was starting to actually feel the pain, the dead and my teachings couldn't keep it from me forever. I needed sleep so I could heal. But I was seriously doubting my ability to sleep long enough to be well again. Maybe once my tasks were done. The business with the dead. 

"What is your price? For Nooka Sound?" the doctor insisted as he pressed harder and I felt a stitch move away from the blade and allow fresh blood to pour from it. 

"There is no price. It's not for sale," I replied as I'd practiced. My mind drifted so much I had to make sure I knew exactly what I was going to say, long before I was going to say it to anyone. 

 

"Honestly, you take pain like a stone," the doctor replied as he pressed harder and I could feel my flesh starting to tear around the strong thread of the stitches. If this kept up I would need a whole new set of stitching. 

"Sovereign rights. And all the tea in China," I finally managed and the blade was retracted from my flesh. I managed to breathe again even as my legs trembled hard enough to bruise the backs of my ankles against the wooden table. The doctor had tied my hands down, but not my legs. I guess he wasn't used to dealing with live people that often. The restraints on my hands almost felt improvised. Or like they'd been used for less... noble practices. I didn't want to spend another minute on it. I could hear the restless dead from deeper in the building starting to wake and call to me. I could see shapes in the corners of my eyes and my mother was leaving me. She never did stay long. It was always good to see her, but I knew she would leave soon. 

"See. Now was that so hard?" the doctor asked as he tossed the knife onto another table with a careless flick of his wrist. He gave me what he must have thought was a comforting smile. It made my skin crawl and the dead grew quiet for a moment. That was always a bad sign. The way they fell quiet. 

"Can I go now?" I asked, shivering as the doctor lay across me and I could feel the evidence of his excitement at having a man like me at his mercy. He undid the straps for which I was grateful, but I knew I had to get out of there. This place would eat away at the last shreds of my sanity. 

"You're free to go. And I'll pass your message along," the doctor offered, not realizing he was stiff in his trousers. Or he didn't care. Likely didn't interact with enough people to realize it. 

I shuddered as I rolled off the table an onto my feel. The world tilted strangely as I regained my balance. I felt the doctor's hands on me and let him help me stand. I knew there would be more work for him so it would behoove me to keep in his good graces. For the time being. I'd like the dead decide what to do with him later. 

"Take care, Mister Delaney," the doctor offered after I'd managed to gather my things and hobble out the door. 

The dead hissed and spoke, warning me to get as far from the man as possible. I concurred and hurried away, nodding to the doctor as I headed for my home. Where different ghosts awaited me. At least they had the courtesy to let me sleep in small snatches. And no one really cared if I preferred to wander the house in just my undershirt. I could get some brandy and some sleep. 

Things would get better, even if I had to give my life for them. The dead sang their agreement. 

But first, rest. 

END.


End file.
